the most beautiful thing: dream awake
Still in the grip of the dream, I wake dazed and confused and pull back into my curl as if I can will it to stay just a little longer. I could feel the heat of you, the rise and fall of your breathing, the simple, ordinary, everyday satisfaction of bodies wrapped innocently in jumbled slumber.
The morning is a gray one, cold and moist. I put one foot in front of the other and check things off the list of basic needs moving on autopilot, though hesitantly. I try to remember that there is a deep deep love swimming in me that stretches out across continents and envelopes me here, too.
I try. It slips. I try again. It slips. So today, I’ll hold to the warmth of the dream until my heart remembers fully who it really is in spite of the longing and loss I feel without you.